


One Last Time

by Stralovat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Magic, Twins, character come back to life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11910672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stralovat/pseuds/Stralovat
Summary: Still shocked by the death of his brother, George Weasley tries to cope with Fred's death, but fails. However, due tothe discovery of a mysterious book, George may not have to cope with it any longer.





	1. Chapter 1

           Five years, eleven months, twenty-nine days, and eighteen hours had passed since that fateful day. To the public, that day disappeared, swallowed up through the march of time, an event only mentioned in passing, along with the era it was in. But to George, May 2 would always be real—fresh—painful. He was there when it happened.

           George never forgot the limpness, the shallow breath, or the emptiness he felt. The pain was always there—burrowed up in the back of his mind, constantly gnawing at his conscience. There was nothing to be done about it—yet he still blamed himself; he should’ve been there, he should have stayed with his brother, he should’ve just kept that Death Eater away with defensive spells instead of relying on close-combat magic, he should’ve known. But either way, the past remained unchanged. Fred was still dead. And in a way, a part of George was also dead.

           In a few more hours, May 2 would arrive once more, and George would spend the day in tears as the memories of his brother rushed back. Some years, George would try to talk himself into finally cleaning out the childhood bedroom he shared with Fred. Every time his hand reached the doorknob, however, he would lose the strength to continue. But over those five years, eleven months, twenty-nine days, and eighteen hours, he had slowly scraped together a meager amount of willpower. Maybe it would be enough this time. George closed his eyes.

           He opened the door.

           A sorry cloud of dust billowed about, slowly settling to reveal the room George had dreaded for so long. Although the room had clearly seen better days, everything was exactly how they had left it. The beds were unmade. A cauldron sat in the corner, half-filled with a forgotten concoction that had begun growing warts. The Muggle dartboard Dad had got them for their tenth birthday still hung on the wall. George picked up one of the darts and absentmindedly threw it at the board. It flew in a loop-the-loop before striking the bull’s-eye. He smiled for a bit—maybe the old days weren’t gone forever—

_The loop-the-loop was Fred’s idea_. The thought struck him out of his nostalgia, and his spirits dropped. He gingerly placed the dart on a table and sat on the bed. There, he noticed the scorched floors that no rug could hope to cover. He smiled bitterly, remembering the good old days when the shop they ran _together_ was in its infancy. Whenever either one of them struck upon an idea for a new prank item, they would spend their nights slaving away at turning it into a reality. The scorch marks on the floor were a testament to those days. He remembered the sleepless nights they spent hunched over their record book, meticulously recording the details of every recipe trial in their mad pursuit for perfection. They lived an oxymoronic existence that would confuse any schoolchild—advanced potion making was never meant to be fun. George absentmindedly reached for the record book and flipped through the pages. As he stooped to put the book back under the bed, his eye caught on a glint of gold binding that should not have been there.

           He picked up the strange book. By all accounts, Fred would never have owned such a book. Dragonhide covers and gold binding? That was far too extravagant for a Weasley—any money spent on such a book would have easily bought a dozen tattered secondhand copies. George knew all this, but he still felt an overwhelming urge to keep the book. Slowly, he turned the book over and looked at its cover; it had only one word, embossed in silver.

**_Resurrectio._ **


	2. Chapter 2

           It was night by the time George finished cleaning out the room. His mother offered to let him stay the night, but George needed some time alone. He couldn’t bear being in the same house he had spent so much time in with Fred. He threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, announced his destination to the flames, and disappeared with a flicker of emerald green—but his mind had already wandered off hours ago. George motionlessly stepped into his room, tossing the contents of his pockets onto the table. He hung his coat, flopped onto the creaking bed, and drifted off immediately, blissfully unaware of the mysterious dragonhide book beginning to emit a black glow.

           The sun rose high in the sky and the birds already begun their morning song. The blaring alarm pierced the pleasant air and woke George from his slumber. With a flick of his hand, the sound disappeared, and he stared blankly at the ceiling above, trying to find a hint of motivation to get up. In the end, after a long debate with himself, he swung his legs down and slipped into a pair of slippers and went to the bathroom to get ready. His apartment was a little big for him; it had three bedrooms and two bathrooms. He turned one of the bedrooms into a study and an experiment lab, but he no longer uses it anymore. He lost his spark when Fred died. George has a kitchen, however, he never uses it because he doesn’t know how to use anything except the coffee machine. 

           He brought the apartment with the intent of starting a family, but after Fred’s death, George’s relationship with Angelina fell apart. Without a notice, George would leave for days on unknown quests claiming that it’s research for his pranks, and then come home with a new scar. After months of disappearing without a trace, Angelina finally gave up and left.  He got his cup of coffee along with his coat and walked out the door, ready to work again.

           At 8:10, like clockwork, he opened the store to let in the hordes of customers waiting to buy the newest products. Teenagers and children alike all love the toys and the kind red-headed prank genius, so they come quite often. George couldn’t help, but watch this scene with a slight ache in his heart because he wanted his brother with him to see this sight. He remembered when they first opened the shop with Harry’s triwizard tournament money. The brilliant bright smile on Fred’s face was all the indication he needed to know that they carved their own place in the world. 

           He felt something warm in his pocket, reached in and took it out. The book was exerting a comfortable heat, and it started to glow a bit. George felt something hit his leg, he glanced down and saw a little girl sitting on the floor.

           “I am sorry I bumped into you, sir.” she said in a sweet voice.

           “That’s alright. Just be more careful, you don’t want to bump into a nasty person.” George replied.

           The girl giggled and looking up, she saw the little book in George hand. She squinted and stared long and hard at it for a while. “I know that word!” she exclaimed.

           George’s eyes widen with excitement, and asked “Really? What is it?”

           She smiled real big and said “It means Resurrection.”

           “How do you know that ?” asked George.

           “Mum has lots of books in Latin, so she taught me, and I recognized that word,” said the little girl with pride.

           He gave her a candy and ruffled her hair. “Thank you.” 

           She nodded and ran off to enjoy her candy.

           The questions that went through George’s head were countless. How did his brother get this book? How long had he had it…? The thoughts filled his head all day, and not before long, the daylight dimmed and it was time to close the shop. As the last customer leave, George was so occupied with thoughts of the book, he didn’t even hear the man say goodbye. He shook his head free from the thoughts of the book, and went home. 

           He flooed back to his apartment and was greeted by the smell of burnt coffee along with cold air. With a wave of his hand, the fireplace started crackling and the fire danced gently on the wood log. He took off his coat and left it by the door, forgetting that the book was in it. 

           Sinking into the couch, he turned on the muggle telly, a present from Dad, and continued to browse through the available programs. He then went to the kitchen to fix himself some dinner. While leaving the kitchen with a heated meal, George searched for the remote, glancing around the room he spotted the remote and next to it was the familiar dragonhide book. 

           George picked it up inspecting it closely. There’s nothing fancy about the book except for the dragonhide and gold binding. George flipped to see the back cover of the book and noticed there were traces of blood on the cover. Suddenly, the front cover flew open and a burst of light came out of the book filling the room. Then, George saw Latin letters in no particular order flying out and vanished back into the pages forming words that George could understand. He turned the page and noticed the color of the ink resembles dried blood. A strange feeling entered him as he read the book. He is aware that he is reading it, but it felt more like if the book was injecting the information straight into his head. He didn’t understand anything the book had to offer, but he knows everything in the book. The words didn’t make senses, but he has the knowledge of the book.  

           The information was overwhelming, because he knew that the dead can’t come back to life and resurrection was impossible. However, the book wasn’t talking about turning the dead back alive again; It was talking about methods similar to reincarnation.

           Within the book, there are methods that allow the soul of the deceased to acquire a new body to re-live again. The book itself was simply a long spell for resurrection. It needs a higher power, flesh of deceased, and a soul. The spell that calls the “higher power” needs expensive and rare ingredients. That’s not all, it also requires dangerous magic. George knew the odds of the spell working is near impossible, but for some reason he wanted to do it. He didn't know why, but something about the book reassured him and dispelled him of all his doubts. 

           So now, where to find dragon blood?

           Ever since a new minister came into office, there have been laws given to protect all magical creäture and ban all discrimination against werewolves and other weres. So to find dragon’s blood proves to be tough. The only option is to go to Knockturn Alley, even so they might not have it there. There was no logic and reason going through George’s mind, he just needed to find out if the spell works.

           He used the Floo system and got there just before all the shops close. He walked through the backdoor and hoped the shop had everything he was looking for. “Welcome to my humble little shop. What brings a war hero like yourself here in this place of dark arts, Mr.Weasley? ” asked the Shopkeeper, “ Especially in my Coffin House. You of all people should know the dangers of life and death.”

           George was slightly uneasy that the shopkeeper knew his possible objective in the shop. “How do you know about that?” demanded George. 

           George took a moment to look at the man across the counter. He had a black cloak that covered his entire body, but they were tight around him fitting perfectly. His sleeves went over his hands and covered them, George could see the Shopkeeper’s thin, bony, pale hand under it. The Shopkeeper also had a gray cloth draped across his chest and tied at his waist. He had a black hat that got thinner as it goes up and it drapes down. The Shopkeeper's face was thin and pale like his hands, his sunken cheeks gives him an almost death like look. George thought if the dementors had a human form, it would be the Shopkeeper, but this dementor-like Shopkeeper almost look surreal. It feels like, if you stare at him too long, he’ll disappear. Next to the Shopkeeper was a weird looking black cat that had two tails and a strange grin on it’s face.

           “This is the Coffin House, where people come to buy not-so-legal things for their not-so-legal activities, anyone who comes in as a customer is hardly here for a friendly visit.” said the Shopkeeper with a creepy smile on his face. “So, great hero, what can I do for you?” 

           “I’m not the great hero, that’s Harry. I’m just George Weasley.”

           “Surely you don’t think that, you help defeat the fearful monster that haunted the dreams of everyone and saved the Wizarding world,” said the Shopkeeper as he stroked the oddly looking cat. “Of course, that kind of heroic action demanded the sacrifice of your dearly beloved brother.” 

           “Please. I don’t need you to tell me what I already know. I just need the items I came here for.” said George as he glared at the ghostly man. 

           “Well, I am only here to serve.” grinned the Shopkeeper.

           “I need to buy dragon’s blood. Money is not a problem.” said George.

           “Will dragon’s blood be all you need? Mr.Weasley.” asked the Shopkeeper.

           “If you have a fairy’s wing, griffin’s hair, and shavings from a unicorn’s horn, then I would like that also.” replied George.

           “Yes, I offer those. I can also throw in Sal Ammoniac and cut the chances of your spell exploding,” said the Shopkeeper, “ If you’d like, I can get lavender for you as a special bonus.”

           George’s eye widen as the shopkeeper offered to get him the recommended items written in the book.

           “How did you know? I haven't told anyone about that.” yelled George as he drew his wand.

           “Calm yourself, I get a lot of intel for someone who works in this business. Don’t you forget it’s the dark arts you’re dealing with and when it comes to the dark arts, I think I know more than you, Mr. Weasley.” said the Shopkeeper as he stroke the cat, “I will have your things ready in a week. Now please get out, I need to close the shop and you’re agitating my cat.”

           George apparated out of there as fast as he could, and went home. He felt exposed under the watchful eye of the creepy shopkeeper. As he paced back and forth in his bedroom, he pondered if his choice to do the spell was wise. Will it really bring his brother back?

           George thought  _ Why are you backing out now George? You made your choice when you went into the shop. Don’t back down now! If this can bring Fred back, then we could be together again.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading. Please comment and/or leave kudos. I have the world's laziest beta so please forgive me if I am slow on updating.


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